Orange Colored Sky
by Moonunit
Summary: A gift for lilsherlockian1975…Molly decides to go to Sherlock for some help…She wants him to find her a man! Sherlock wonders why that bothers him so much…Gee, do you think the great Sherlock Holmes will actually get a bloody clue! Let's find out, shall we?
1. Chapter 1

**For lilsherlockian1975, a gift just because I think you are awesome!** Also, SURPRISE! I bet I had you fooled with that question about a friend of a friend... _right?_ :-)

Oh, and there **will be smut**. Also, I'm not sure what season this is, nor do I care. Okay, maybe I do care, I'm thinking sometime in S3 or a little after…maybe? Anyway…I started this a long, long time ago and it's been sitting on my flash drive waiting. I wasn't sure it was all that good, especially as a nice little gift…but then I remembered it's the thought that counts so…here you go.

 **Warning dear reader: this story is** _ **not**_ **beta'd.** For I wanted this to be a surprise for my fellow writer and lovely friend who takes the time to look my stories over…Didn't think it was right for her to look it over seeing it's her gift!

Also,I'm not planning to have this story go too long. So never fear. I'm thinking 4 or 5 parts…no more than 6!

 **As with all things Sherlock I don't own the characters…and the world, as should you, sighs with relief!**

I took the title from a song sung by Nat King Cole and later Natalie Cole. Don't fear. This is _**not**_ a songfic. However I have put a small quote of it in the quote section before my little story. **I don't own the song or the right to even quote it but then the great Doyle's estate would perhaps say the same about certain quotes I have and will continue to use in all my stories.**

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~*~Orange Colored Sky ~*~

 _~*~Part 1~*~_

 _Like all Holmes' reasoning the thing seemed simplicity itself when it was explained. He must have read the thought upon my features, and his smile had a tinge of bitterness._

' _I am afraid that I rather give myself away when I explain,' said he. 'Results without causes are much more impressive…'_

-The Stockbroker's Clerk by Arthur Conan Doyle

' _I was walking along. Mindin' my business. When out of the orange colored sky. Flash! Bam! Ali-ca-zam! Wonderful you came by…'_

-from song, 'Orange Colored Sky'…sung by Nat King Cole

~*~SHERLOCK~*~

Sherlock Holmes is a man who is always more concerned with what was going on in his head than what was going on with his body. It seemed to be a well-known fact among others around him. Those that called themselves his friends knew this. Hell, they sometimes acted as if they even accepted this fact. Though to be honest, John would growl something like, "You are not a bloody machine, Sherlock. No! You are a crazy brilliant sod!" Not that what John said always mattered.

Nope. In fact, his body could get quite cold or hot, even experience physical pain and he'd still focus his mind with sharp perception upon whatever case was at hand. He'd even go without food for days if necessary thinking that it might slow him down…and heaven forbid that he or his great mind ever slowed down!

Sherlock knew without a single doubt that he worked better when he was completely involved and focused on a case. He enjoyed it when the case was an eight and above…A ten was quite rare but they did happen. Lately, however, he was getting nothing but sixes and under. Not even a bloody sodding _seven_ and the boredom of it all made him want to redecorate his wall once more with bullets! Or take the case of the missing poodle named 'Miss Tickles'… _Heaven forbid_.

Anyway, let's say he did shoot up one of the walls of his flat…Perhaps with his own initials this time around…Or even his full name…Goodness that would be impressive wouldn't it? Or maybe he'd shot in the wall that his brother was a complete arse…Of course, Sherlock would have to buy more bullets if he was hoping to do that…Call Mycroft an arse…or put his own long full name into the wall…Hmm, decisions, decisions…

Though to be perfectly honest what he really needed was a bloody cigarette! However he had decided to quit…AGAIN! He could easily start thinking of vulgar words that was certain…He needed a blasted cigarette! Really he did.

Also the next person to tell him that smoking kills…He'll happily remind them that he can kill too…Just much faster.

Though mainly he need a case…A damn fine one would be nice! Much higher than a stupid six! Seriously, it was highly annoying when the criminal element became lazy and didn't even attempt at being creative!

Fortunately as he was thinking this like magic…though yes, he knew bloody well magic didn't exist only grand illusions did…Still…Lestrade rang him up and informed him that he wanted him to come and take a look at a body…

Which he happily did, of course, all the while he tried his bloody best not to look too hopeful or too excited about this body…about this new case…or how it just might be a good, lovely high number, perhaps even Christmas which is a ten, so completely worth his time and effort.

Sadly, all the case did was but him in a seriously foul dark mood. Much more than he had already been in.

For the case proved to be much too simple…

A married man had rented a small flat under an assumed name so he could cheat more easily on his wife, all the while thinking she wouldn't find out _. Right._ Yet she obviously did for she had shot her cheating husband twice in the chest…In the very flat that had borne witness to his infidelities.

She had used a heart shaped pillow as a silencer. The idiot probably didn't even realize that there was a gun behind it until she shot him. She had left his wedding ring which he faithfully removed time and time again next to hers upon a nearby table. It had been removed for the first time after so many years. She even left a message with the word 'Sorry' on a bright pink post-it note.

The man had about four different ID's and credit cards with different names as well…It wasn't hard to figure out which was his real ID, however. The one that didn't have that that flat's address on it, of course.

Then he informed Lestrade who had exactly done the murder and why…Also, Sherlock told him that when an officer went to go pick up the wife they really shouldn't expect a fight. In fact they would find another body…The wife.

So another day totally wasted! He needed a good bloody case! That is what he needed. Sherlock needed a case that made him and his mind leap with joy and shout, 'It's Christmas!' But was that happening? Hmm? Was it, nope, it was not!

God! What the bloody hell was wrong with the criminal element of London? Seriously, what? Why couldn't they attempt to rob a bank? Kill someone…Hell, a good maiming was always quite fun!

So, with Sherlock mentally hating all the stupid criminals that didn't even _try_ to be interesting! Hell, they could attempt to at least do a number seven! Yet, it seemed that all the normally creative criminals were staying home and watching some crap telly…

He had left Lestrade and then he decided to order a cab to take him to Bart's.

Perhaps he could do an experiment in the lab or have Molly give him some body parts.

When Sherlock got there, he went straight to the morgue to find Molly Hooper and when he saw her, he noticed right away that Molly seemed…well…nervous…Quite nervous actually.

He was surprised to suddenly remember that it had been years since his little pathologist has been nervous around him. Yet, here was his Molly, standing before him, biting her lip lightly. Her dark brown eyes, as well as her body language shouted that she was highly nervous…Oddly enough, Sherlock found himself charmed by it. Whereas once he would have been overwhelmed with annoyance.

He hadn't realized until this exact moment how much he had missed her sweet little attempts at trying to get his attention, one he had faked at being clueless by.

For a long time now she seemed to accept that they were simply friends and that was true. They were good loyal friends. Sherlock had come to trust her greatly and he was perhaps…just perhaps…fond of her in his own way.

"Um, Sherlock…" Molly spoke hesitantly. "I…um…well…I have a-a question for you."

Sherlock simply waited a long moment before he sighed as if the coming question already greatly annoyed him before replying quite slowly and pointedly. "Yes?"

 _His_ Molly, always his Molly, took a deep breath and closed her eyes as if trying to come up with the correct words to form the question properly. Perhaps she feared he would laugh or mock her…which let's be honest was always a strong possibility…

Surely she wasn't going to ask if he wanted a cup of coffee! God! For Sherlock was certain that they had gotten past this nonsense!

After a long moment of silence Sherlock found himself saying calmly, "So, you said you have a question?"

Molly opened her lovely brown eyes to say carefully and calmly, "Yes, right…Okay, Sherlock, will you please use your lovely detection and observation skills to—" Molly bit her lip nervously before continuing, "find me a keeper…a-a man, for me…please."

~*~End of Part 1~*~

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Yes, this is a small part...

More will be coming soon, promise! It's even longer...

However I would like to know if others wouldn't mind wanting more…

it could get me to send the next part faster…

Just a thought!


	2. Chapter 2

A friendly reminder: Story is completely unbeta'd. So yeah, there will be mistakes I'm certain no matter how many times I've looked this over. No one is perfect…Trust me, I know this to be true.

Hope you enjoy and still this goes out to the awesome and lovely lilsherlockian1975. You are a treasure. I seriously hope you receive pleasure out of this…

I would also like to thank patemalah21, Michaela Pendragon Holmes, Roseokwerekwu, and MrsMCrieff for the lovely reviews. You guys rock. Thank you.

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~*~Orange Colored Sky ~*~

 _~*~Part 2~*~_

 _I think I stood stunned for some moments._

 _-_ The Illusterious Client by Arthur Conan Doyle

 _I gotta look at you. One look and I yelled 'timber'! Watch out for flying glass! 'Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out and I went into a spin…_

-from song, 'Orange Colored Sky'…sung by Nat King Cole

~*~SHERLOCK~*~

Sherlock stood completely still and slowly blinked.

Molly simply looked back at him with a very hopeful look upon her lovely face.

… _lovely face_ …

Why was he starting to think that her face is lovely?

… _yes, why_ …

He realized with a twist inside that he had thought this before…

 _More than once…_

Finally Sherlock swallowed quite hard before asking, "What?"

"Well…I would like you to find me a man a-and not just for a one off…Nope, not that, though I would not complain at all if the sex is good and hot. I'm certain that if I did happen to want a one off that I could find that all on my own…h-however…I want someone to have a lovely relationship with…You know, a good friend, a fantastic lover and quite possibly a future husband. A-A man not afraid to be a father of my future children…I have recently celebrated a birthday…which reminded me that I am indeed getting older and not younger." Molly quickly told him, all the while gazing at him as if he could suddenly wave a magic wand and…BANG! Instant good friend, fantastic lover and future husband all rolled into one would suddenly be standing before her…oh, and he'd have a nice big cock and want to bring about her pleasure first…and if he was willing to wash dishes every night, well, Sherlock didn't think she'd complain…

Sherlock shook his head as if to clear those thoughts from his head…Especially the thought of some faceless man with a big dick holding his Molly passionately in his arms…Suddenly he wanted to break said fantasy man's arms and punch him hard in the groin…Never let it be said that Sherlock Holmes wasn't a dirty fighter. For he was, actually...Plus, was a great bare-fisted fighter…hell, John had even wrote that Sherlock had some 'fantastic' moves in his blog…though he would have preferred John call those 'killer' moves but then what more could he expect from a blogger who was known to use spell check.

He drew in a deep long breath as if struggling to find his well-known iron control once more. He wasn't sure when in the hell he lost it but that question and huge arse of a favor she was asking was in no way helping!

Plus, if he said 'yes' not that he wanted to...She'd probably tackle him into a tight hug with a happy sound…That warm sweet body pressed tightly against his and those tiny yet oddly strong hands would press into his back…Damn it! He needed to go out and punch something…a wall…a stupid criminal…his brother…But there was that sweet, hopeful look she was giving him…That wasn't helping either!

Hell, she looked _cute_ and quite kissable. Two words he found highly annoying. Plus... _kissable_? Really? He only ever kissed someone for a case…and Molly was not a case. So why the bloody hell was he thinking she was kissable? Hell, his stupid body was seriously hoping for a hug!

That just pissed him off.

"Seriously? You want _me_ to use my art of deduction to find you a man?" Sherlock asked in almost a low, cruel growl…with a hint of menace. He even moved in close, in the hopes to intimidate. He would never physically hurt her. Never physically…nor surprisingly did he want to hurt her with words he knew could easily destroy her. So instead he kept his questions simple…his tone a warning and harsh, yes…but they wouldn't hurt her…wouldn't break her. For her he'd try to be kind. As kind as a man like him could be.

However his cruel growl…harsh questions didn't intimidate her at all…Surprisingly she didn't even flinch like she would have in the past. No, she stood firm and still looked at him with those damn hopeful eyes.

"You helped that tart, Janine find a man at John's wedding." Molly reminded him softly…and was there a hint of…what the hell was that? Jealousy? Anger? _Who at?_ Janine? Him? And _tart_? She thought Janine a tart? Not that he cared…Nope. Not really…

So why did he ask, "Tart?"

Those brown eyes flashed like sparkling jewels. "I could call her a hussy but then my hussy friends would take offence."

Sherlock blinked before asking, "You have hussy friends?"

Molly shrugged carelessly yet her lips lifted slightly before stating, "Doesn't _everyone_ have a hussy friend or two? Me? I made one when I was sixteen and another one in uni. They both call themselves hussies and tell me that I'm in their club…One owns a sex shop and a fun, hot club in the town I grew up in and the other one writes fantastic stories…with great plots and even hotter smut. There is a reason Lil's husband is always smiling. Not the point, mind you, all I know is that Janine doesn't deserve that title."

Her tone strongly suggested that Janine deserved worse. _Much worse_. Though for all of Sherlock's powers of deduction he honestly couldn't understand why. _He_ had used Janine, not the other way around. He in no way used her physically. Just used her to get to her boss and into his office. Yes, he might very well be a high functioning sociopath, who was completely faking about being in a relationship with her…hell, he hadn't even wanted a bloody relationship with _that_ woman! However, he couldn't… _wouldn't_ use her body.

Even though Janine had clearly wanted him. Hell, she kept trying to touch him in a naughty manner…Invading his privacy when he was in the bath or shower…and how it had annoyed him that he couldn't turn on her with savage words…but had to constantly remind himself that he needed to bloody _act_ like he was into her…wanted her as his girlfriend and partner in all things. Janine had even taken to staying over and sleeping in his bed. _Alone._ For he'd always grab his phone claiming, 'Case!' Before running out. He had tried to make it seem that he was too busy helping others then being selfish and doing what he really wanted…which was spend time with her. He was lying, of course, while she melted and smiled. Saying something about soon enough he could be as selfish as he wanted to be for she could be as patient as a cat. Whatever the bloody hell that meant. He took comfort in knowing that soon enough she would realize that he was never going to be her mouse.

So many nights he had been relieved to escape her presence. Happy to slip out not caring that she was naked in his bed…Declaring an important case…when all he was doing was visiting his best mate the needle.

Sherlock was smart, brilliant really, he knew he had brutally hurt her in the end. Why he didn't mind her making money lying to the tabloids about him. Hell, he could understand. He had lied so she had the right to lie right back…though really calling him pretty much a sex addict annoyed him a bit, especially when he'd receive suggestive email's and someone's knickers and sex toys through the mail. But he could deal with Janine's revenge…

He knew the revenge would have been much worse if he had actually slept with her…to make the relationship seem much more real. He was known to be a cruel bastard, so, yeah…and sociopath…so he could have but he couldn't. John's voice inside his head had warned him off.

' _Don't do it, mate. That is wrong on so many levels. If you sleep with her there will be tears…possible weeping and you know damn well females of our species is the most deadly. She would probably do something to your cock that would have society talking about it in horrified whispers…And when society speaks of you it won't be 'oh, you mean the famous consulting detective'…No, trust me, it will be something totally different that will have men everywhere wincing.'_

Though why John couldn't have just asked him, _'you want to become a eunuch? Then be a git and sleep with her.'_

And then there had been Molly…He wasn't sure why it mattered so much when he had kissed Janine… he could have sworn Molly's disappoint in him was there in the room. And he damn sure didn't want to think how when Janine touched him…He thought of Molly. How he used Molly to trick his body into getting hard so Janine would believe the lies he so carefully spun.

Nope, he was _never_ going to let Molly or anyone know that. Maybe with time he'd be able to delete that part…or continue to ignore it. He was good at doing that.

He made a face at that thought and Molly must have misunderstood for she made a soft sound as she stepped closer, "Not that I have anything against Janine."

"You're lying." Sherlock told her solemnly, quickly and quite truthfully. He titled his head and eyed her curiously. "Why are you lying?"

Molly opened her mouth but no sound came forth. She looked away and down at her feet…sighing deeply. She was quiet for a long moment…as if counting silently. Her beautiful brown eyes met his once more.

"You're right, Sherlock. I was lying. I don't like her."

Sherlock watched her swallow hard. The admission had been soft and low…looking uncomfortable…as if admitting such a thing was somehow wrong.

Molly continued, "I'm not even jealous. I just want you happy. Your work makes you happy and if you ever wanted a relationship with someone… _a real one_ …I'd be sad that it couldn't have been me but I'd understand. I see you. I know you…John told me how you tricked her and lied to her. In fact, after he explained it I thought there was a chance that _she_ was the one to shot you…that no matter what John claimed that she had been knocked out…I thought there was a strong possibility that she realized what you had done…Saw just how cold and cruel you could be. That she had decided to make you pay. I hated that she had tried to kill you. Later I realized just how wrong I was. Mary had stopped me from doing something quite stupid…Oh, not kill her but take my theory to Anderson and let him run it all over the net…and have his club of 'hat detective' members make her life a bit uncomfortable."

She admitted this so softly…so sadly as if she was ashamed of herself. She bit her lip and reached up to touch her braided hair. Sherlock didn't know how to respond to that and he found that he didn't need to for she wasn't finished speaking…

"So I found out that I didn't need to hate her…I could continue to dislike her though. I know I should feel sympathy for her but I don't. You see, she _knew_ , Sherlock, she bloody knew that you were high all those countless times while you were with her! I can't forgive that! If she really cared about you she would have called Mary and said _something_ about your drug use…and then Mary would have informed John and John would have broken records getting to your side! But she didn't!"

Molly suddenly sounded angry and hurt…her eyes sparkled with tears that make her eyes look like crushed dark gems…The look she gave him could have broken his heart…if he had such an organ…and the mad twist he felt in his chest…told him that he did indeed still have one.

"She just wanted a handsome man to show off…Wanted the right to say, 'hey, I'm dating the famous detective Sherlock Holmes'! Also, I'm pretty damn sure he comes from money seeing he has expensive never off the rack clothes…and takes cases for pleasure not caring about profit! You never even once had to look for things to sell or steal to pay for your _stupid_ drug use. You may have been using her for a case but she was using you right back! She had no right keeping the fact you were using to herself and not telling John! No right, Sherlock…Hell, I bet she never once suggested Rehab! And because she didn't even _once_ try to help you, she was too busy taking pride in finding herself a rich, handsome man that seemed to be wrapped around her finger…I will _never_ like her or even want to be in the same room with that…that _bitch_!"

Sherlock blinked slowly….Stunned to see things from her point of view. Molly was right. Janine had seen him high…saw him completely wasted…Had to have known…and hadn't been all that concerned. Sherlock had been fine about it…Molly obviously wasn't.

Finally, after a long moment, he filled the silence with…

"I understand." Sherlock's tone was low and oh so soft.

And he did understand. Truly. For Molly cared. Deeply and completely. She held nothing back. Her emotions were always raw and true. Oh, Bollocks! She did more than _care_. She loved him. For all the good it did her.

Molly eyed him quite thoughtfully before giving him a slight nod.

Sherlock knew instantly that _this_ part of their conversation was over and done with. Perhaps never to be spoken of again.

He was honestly okay with that.

However there was another part of their conversation that he wouldn't mind going into a deep grave and never having life again…

As if catching that thought….Molly's eyes brightened and a hopeful smile replaced her slightly battle hardened look as if it had never been there.

"So…" She began slowly…drawing it out as if singing a beautiful long note. It sounded almost teasing and so lighthearted…like something from one of those 'please kill me now' Disney movies…

Sherlock almost expected to see and hear blasted birds join in. Luckily that didn't happen.

Instead he studied Molly's hopeful look upon that lovely beautiful face…

Damn, she was beautiful…and here she was asking _him_ to find her a man…a bloody keeper!

Inside Sherlock's head an overzealous amount of curses beat a savage unrelenting rhythm. So much so he had to tighten his jaw to keep his mouth from joining in.

Once more, Molly who could be so smart at times, misunderstood…

"I know you have better things to do. Some interesting and all important case to keep yourself busy."

Okay, he seriously needed to pistol whip a corpse.

Sherlock knew damn well that Molly wasn't being unkind. She seriously thought this. Now if his brother had said this…He would have been tempted to kill the man.

"And I know…" Molly continued, as she kept those beautiful and hopeful-damn it all-eyes upon him. "That your gift is to be respected. However, I was thinking that perhaps…just perhaps…you could think of this little experiment as a game. A chance to use your observation skills…and see if you could use them to play matchmaker. See if you could play the game and win."

That…sounded like a challenge. Sherlock felt his eyes narrow. No. He was not—

Molly's soft and lady like manner words didn't stop. Her chin held high as if almost defiant in her challenge…She was always a lady, his pathologist…His…His Molly.

"It's sad how you attempted to play the game at John's wedding. Janine may have danced with the man you had pointed out to her but she left alone…and seeing how she ended up in a fake relationship with you…"

Molly sighed, "You lost that round but now you have a chance at winning this one…"

She brightened suddenly, "Oh! If you wanted to make the game really interesting perhaps you could call your brother and see if he'd enjoy playing against you. Could be fun…and John told me how you enjoyed challenging your brother to a good game. Hmm, how does that sound? And I don't mind the way I see it that would just double my odds at finding a keeper!"

Sherlock's fisted tightened. He wanted to shake her…no, he wanted to…to kiss the demon who had possessed his Molly right out of her body…

If he believed in demons he would do just that—

"Should you call him?"

"No!" Sherlock snapped out through clenched teeth.

Suddenly Molly looked completely devastated.

He couldn't handle that look.

" _ **I'll**_ play this game, _**not**_ my brother." He continued almost in an angry manner, not knowing how low, dark and dangerous his voice was at that moment. Not that he really cared.

~*~End of Part 2~*~

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Well, lilsherlockian1975 I hope with all my heart that you are taking delight in this story...

I hope you are as well my lovely readers...

If you are enjoying, please drop me a line...

Countless hugs!


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, lil, I'm so glad you are still enjoying your gift...Hope you enjoy this part too and yeah, I love you too...

Also, thanks goes out to lilsherlockian1975, roseokwerewu, MrsMCrieff, Guest, Etakdabreg for the awesome and encouraging reviews...I hope I don't disappoint...

Now onto the story...

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 _~*~Part 3~*~_

 _Love is like a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come._

 _-_ Matt Groening-creator of 'The Simpsons'

' _I have never loved, Watson…'_

-spoken by Sherlock Holmes in 'The Devil's Foot by Arthur Conan Doyle

' _Upon hearing this the ice weasels quickly made their way to 221 B Baker Street. Perhaps to beat some sense into him, for they are ice weasels after all. Only to find to their great amusement an unclothed Molly Hooper pinning down a naked Sherlock Holmes. Doing all kinds of wicked, naughty things to the great detective right in front of his lovely fireplace. The ice weasels, of course, did what they are known to do. They stayed and watched. Those pervs…'_

-Moonunit

~*~SHERLOCK~*~

When Sherlock agreed to play this so-called 'game' for Molly.

He had no idea why he would then be forced to go shopping with her…yes, _shopping_ …or aka _middle of hell itself…_ For once he, a great detective now turned into fashion hound, agreed to help find her a man…Molly happily called it a day. With Mike's blessing…that bloody, damn traitor…Mike had even smiled and his eyes sparkled as if truly delighted to give Molly whatever her morbid little heart desired. He had even thanked her for coming in on her day off and if she wanted to come in late tomorrow that would be fine. _Fine?_ _ **Seriously?**_

What if a case came in that caught his interest? He'd need his Molly there to make sure things were done right…or did he mean if Sherlock did find her man she could come in later because…because…she'd need to 'sleep' in…Damn it! He should have just punched cheerful, overly happy to be helpful Mike right in the nose.

Now, here Sherlock was shopping for the perfect outfit for Molly to wear when he found her blasted 'keeper'. He already hated the man…whoever he was. When he demanded why he should help…She smiled and said something about making a lovely first impression. Seeing how he was going to 'play the game', she needed to do her part…and for some reason she needed _him_ to help her do that.

Bollocks.

Why…Seriously, _**why**_ , couldn't the criminal element have kept him from this madness? Lately they have grown lazy and it seemed they no longer cared about being creative…and because of that…they have left him to…to doing _this_. Those arseholes!

Now he had to help Molly find a man and help her look impressive and beautiful for some idiot he was to magically find…

He told her it didn't matter. Just tell whoever he found for her that she had recently handled decaying flesh, could humming 'Walking on Sunshine' while giving some lucky corpse a perfect Y-cut and also held a beautiful obviously diseased heart in her gloved hand less than two hours ago…Who wouldn't be impressed with that? A bloody fool obviously. Though he did tell her not to ever repeat that joke about keeping such an interesting specimen in a pickle jar and using it as a paper weight…

Her soft muttered response of, "Who says I was joking?"…made him smile. A real smile that he was certain reached his eyes. The warm carefree feeling that flowed through him told him this fact.

So she dragged him to a well-known store where Sherlock found himself sitting upon an uncomfortable red leather covered bench out in front of a ladies dressing room.

"No!" Sherlock snapped as Molly came out once more to show off another dress…Dark midnight blue with tiny gold glitter throughout yet this one was as skin tight as one could get and it was…was something that should never be worn in public. _Ever!_ Especially his sweet, innocent pathologist. How did that get into the 'try' on pile that she had walked in with? He could clearly remember glaring at her and putting some items back for her. He also remembered telling her they were _not_ going to start off with first impressions with clear and blunt lies.

Molly innocently blinked at him, looking genuinely puzzled, before turning to look at her reflection in the large full length mirror that covered the corner wall.

He swore his brain froze for a moment as she slowly ran her petite hands with those lovely fingers down over her sweet looking bottom…Those hands stoked and caressed…

Bloody hell, she should not be doing this in a public place with morons around…the male assistant that looked like he wouldn't mind helping her or receiving her number …and the man next to him waiting for his wife to come out. He turned to look at that man whose dilated eyes stated he was seriously liked what he saw and said quietly, "If you don't stop looking at the woman I'm with…I'm going to tell your wife about your pregnant girlfriend…and does she know about the blind neighbor you've been seeing? Hmm, she probably does seeing that she's slowly been poisoning you for a couple of weeks now. You should see a doctor about that…show him your nails and tell him about what you have stupidly thought to be a mild case of stomach flu."

Sherlock looked back at Molly and ignored the stuttering and clearly horrified man's reaction.

"I should have stayed at the morgue and pistol whipped a corpse." He spoke soft and low to himself yet he watched with satisfaction both men leave. Having heard him for he hadn't spoken in a whisper. He had wanted them to hear them…for really they had no right to be looking at Molly as if she was a sex goddess arriving to grant their deepest and darkest desires. Nope, no right at all.

Molly seemed to take no notice in this…Too busy looking for flaws that she clearly believed he had found. He shook his head. She eyed him from the mirror with a frown.

"You can't tell I'm wearing my neon pink lacy thong in this, can you?" She asked him in a worried and concerned tone. Her hands slowly feeling the side of where she knew the lace to the thong in question to be.

Sherlock stilled becoming a statue…His brain froze once more…longer this time. No, he hadn't known about her neon pink lacy thong…Finally his own long fingers curled into fists breaking the spell. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice and when he did, he found it to be rough… "No."

Her hands moved up and she sighed…suddenly looking sad before guessing, "It's my breasts, isn't it? I normally always wear a bra but this dress…I doubt I could find the right bra…and going braless kind of feels naughty and makes me feel…sexy…but I don't look it, do I?"

Now she was cupping her breasts eyes focused completely on herself. Turning slowly this way and that.

Sherlock found himself unable to look away.

"No, you look…g-good…sexy even." Sherlock admitted…longing to surge forward and do… _something…_

"Really?" Molly questioned softly, before stating, "You once said my breasts were too small and unpleasant."

"I never said they were unpleasant!" He quickly denied. "They are quite nice breasts in fact."

She lightly smoothed the tight fabric over the items in question…Hands still doing whatever the hell they were doing and her nipples…He watched them slowly harden and tighten…He shifted slightly upon the seriously uncomfortable bench.

"Even though with age they are slowly losing their firmness and let's be honest…One breast is slightly bigger than the other…" Molly continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"They are still quite firm and even when you become older they will still be perfect. And a slightly bigger breast that can only be noticed when looking really close…just adds character." Sherlock spoke honestly, hating the fact he wanted to replace her hands with his. What was wrong with him?

Molly brightened, her eyes meeting his once more. "Aw, why thank you, Sherlock. I thought you might suggest surgery to fix them—"

"Never." He found himself snapping with a growl.

"I will admit to having thought about it." She admitted softly as if confiding in some sort of classified government secret…moving her hands away from her body. Nipples high, tight and proud…for some crazy reason he wanted to quickly remove the dress to kiss them and suck them into his mouth…wait, what did she say?

"Don't. You. Dare." Sherlock ordered darkly and angrily. He was shocked to find himself standing in front of her… "Ever. They are perfect."

Molly frowned, "You, yourself said they were small."

"Some men like them just right…They would fit perfectly in—"Sherlock stopped himself in time before stating they would fit perfectly in _his_ hands. To his horror he found his palms had been out as if to show her…He quickly cupped his rebellious hands behind his back.

"Just don't mess with them…EVER." His voice lowered taking on a certain rough edge.

Molly blinked at him before smiling at him. "Okay." Then she happily turned back to the mirror… "I think I'll buy this one."

Sherlock found himself glaring at her. "It's an improper dress, Molly. Men will see you in that and think…well, you know, men thoughts and John has informed me countlessly that the male species are all horny pigs…Plus, the last number you wore is more you."

"The red one with the tiny blue, orange and white roses? Um, with the lovely pearl buttons?"

"Yes, that dress." He quickly confirmed. "Wear those long pearl drop earrings, that orange light crochet jumper and those orange open toe sandals with it and there you go."

She already owned all those items…Plus, and more importantly, her bra would be firmly in place.

"True." She spoke as if she heard his silent thought. "That dress is lovely…Though there is nothing wrong with buying _two_ dresses."

He suddenly had a picture of him carrying a harpoon whenever she went out in that dress to keep men at a respectable and safe non-touching distance…Unless, when he went to his favorite bolt-hole a fortunate accident took place…involving a match and lighter fluid.

"Seriously?! You'd wear this dress in public?!" Sherlock objected…knowing if she bought it he'd have to watch her like a hawk and have his harpoon at the ready…though, really…match and lighter fluid would be easier…then she'd be upset with him…tell him he had to buy a new one…he could see a vicious circle happening before him. Over and over again.

Her lovely brown eyes sparkled mischievously as they caught his in the mirror.

"Oh, Sherlock…this is not for public viewing. A girl has to have at least one outfit that she wears for her man to rip right off of her."

"Rip…" He said softly, almost as in a daze. "But…I thought women got seriously upset with that kind of thing."

Molly turned her head and flashed him a huge smile. "Not when it's the right man doing the ripping. Good thing you are going to find me this man, Sherlock. I must say I'm looking forward to it and in this dress… _well_ …" She said this last word in a sexy, teasing manner…As if it was full of wicked, delightful promises…

Then she turned away to walk gracefully back to the dressing room…actually Molly didn't walk it was almost as if she was dancing to a slow beautiful melody only she heard. She even twirled at the last second…as a soft laugh escaped as if excited about the future and about this man who would passionately and happily rip off that tight midnight blue sparkling dress…

Perhaps to find her completely naked underneath…

It took a long moment for Sherlock to realize he had been watching her opened mouth and that he needed to desperately recall how to breathe once more.

~*~End of Part 3~*~

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Okay, wish for more...Please let me know...


	4. Chapter 4

I'm so happy people are enjoying this gift to lilsherlockian1975. This story is a true joy to write. Now a special and countless hugs goes out to lilsherlockian1975, enp, Michaela pendragon Holmes, Etakdabreg, roseokwerekwu, Andriana-greece, MrsMCrieff, lilmang86, and travellady77 for the lovely reviews. They made me smile and touched my heart...they also made me type more! Countless hugs!

Also Nice warning: 'On the corner of Basil and Rathbone' I'm being cheeky. However if you are in the mood to watch Basil Rathbone play Sherlock Holmes simply google 'Basil Rathbone movies' and find them all, especially as Holmes on Y-tube.

Now on to...

* * *

~*~Orange Colored Sky ~*~

 _~*~Part 4~*~_

' _I was only testing you and you rang true every time…'_

-The Abbey Grange by Arthur Conan Doyle

 _Whoever had lost a treasure, I knew that night I had gained one._

-The Sign of the Four by Arthur Conan Doyle

 _I was walking along. Mindin' my business. When love came and hit me in the eye._

-from song, 'Orange Colored Sky'…sung by Nat King Cole

~*~SHERLOCK~*~

They were now at the coffeehouse on the corner of Basil and Rathbone that had at times horrible poetry and even worse live music…Sherlock refused to trust anyone who kept calling their violin a 'fiddle'…The man was half American but still not all Americans called violins… _fiddles_ …and that moron should know better! Plus, one of the singers had a bad ear infection so her pitch was seriously off…In other words, Sherlock Holmes was in complete and total _hell_ …even with a perfect cup of rich tasting coffee in his hands…he now knew what hell was…

Of course, Molly and he hadn't started off here. No, they had at first gone to an active night club…Where Sherlock happily pointed out countless cheaters…a man who loved his dog _too_ much…found a couple of wanted bank robbers…A man with a foot fetish…In which, Sherlock had to inform Molly that her feet wouldn't hold much interest to the man. At her look he had been forced to explain that her feet were too cute…He hated that word… _cute_ …yet he couldn't help but think it.

Molly wore the red dress with the colorful roses…as well as everything else he had suggested and Sherlock also couldn't help but think that she looked lovely.

At one point she danced with a good looking stranger but when the bloke in question moved his hand to rest on Molly's slow swinging arse…Sherlock suddenly found himself moving quite fast to do something…What he'd have done he'd never quite know for Molly slipped away from that arsehole right quick. So Sherlock, showing overwhelming mercy…let the man go. Especially seeing how Molly walked over to him with such a lovely bright smile upon her face…Her sparkling brown eyes focused completely on him as if he was the only man in the club. He liked that…a bit too much actually…So he forced himself to look away from her and when he did he saw…

Molly gasped…Having decided to follow his eye path. Her hand fell gently upon his arm. Even through all the layers of cloth he wore, Sherlock could have sworn her touch branded him. He quickly glanced back at her. She no longer was smiling that lovely smile that had been just for him…No, it was replaced with a harsh frown and a gathering storm of fury. He already had his phone out to text Lestrade…

Sherlock growled Molly's name as she moved away from him to the scene of the disgusting crime. So he quickly followed all the while texting. He knew exactly why Molly was so upset and he could honestly understand. For once, he didn't need John to explain the why's of it all. They had both seen a man slip something nasty into a girl's drink…a girl the stranger was talking to…he did it when she looked over her shoulder to see if someone she knew was coming up behind her…

Lately, Molly had too many corpses upon her slab that had been slipped too much of the nasty stuff…Women and men…So Sherlock knew that alone would make her highly upset and furious. So much so that she would storm over there and hit… _no, no_ make that _punch_ the bloke hard in the groin. Yep, she did just that! And Sherlock did not wince. Nope, he did not.

He did find himself thankful that with all the crap he had pulled over the years with her that she hadn't done that to him.

Molly quickly explained what the stranger had done…pointed to the drink…Sherlock heard the words 'evidence' and 'police' and the shocked woman in front of Molly turned angry and took her handbag and began hitting the jerk with it. Molly and some other women, as well as a few men, actually cheered her on.

Forcing Sherlock to also call his brother so he and Molly wouldn't be held up by the police when they came. His annoying brother helped but asked if he was on a date…and then when Sherlock told him what exactly he was helping Molly with…The horrible excuse for a human being aka his own brother actually offered to help. He turned him down, of course, in the manner Mycroft was use too…He texted a picture of a certain finger and he may have wrote something physically impossible that his brother couldn't actually do but told him to do anyway.

So after that little adventure they were here… at this coffeehouse…where Sherlock was certain this place should be named, 'Cups of Great Torment' instead of its current name, 'Cups of Lovin'…Seriously, he'd rather be shot again by Mary instead of being here. This…this _**hell**_ …

Anyway, Molly forced him to come here because this was supposedly a great place to meet singles if one didn't want a pub or club setting…Of course, there was also married couples but he wasn't focused on them now was he? Nope. Nada. For Molly, _his_ Molly wanted a man…a single man…a bloody keeper!

Sherlock stood near Molly. Glaring hard at anyone who dared to come to close to him…or Molly…All the while sipping his coffee while she did the same…Well, _almost_ the same. While he stood, she sat upon a tall bar like wooden chair that look far too uncomfortable…There was a small tall round table in front of her where she could rest her drink when she chose…And her foot lightly kept perfect beat to the music around them.

The tall chair kept Molly at a perfect height so he didn't have to bend too far to hear her when she choose to speak…Or to jab at him with her elbow…Which…OW-by the way!

"What about that man?" Molly lifted her cup and titled it over to her left to the red-haired gentleman in question. "He's cute. Really cute."

Sherlock glared at the man. Seriously not liking Mr. _Cute_. "No. He breeds cats and takes them to shows…and throws a fit if his perfect kitties loses."

"Oh! I like cats, Sherlock." Molly reminded him happily.

"No. He owns a certain type of breed…You must think of Toby. The man is a pure cat snob and would think your cat less than his own. Toby deserves so much better..."

"Toby, huh? Yeah, he deserves so much better…" Molly muttered before taking a slow, long sip of her drink. Sherlock watched as her eyes closed in bliss and she let out a soft moan. Watched without blinking as she swallowed and licked her lips afterwards. "Damn, this is good coffee."

His felt his fingers tighten upon his coffee cup…He forced himself to look away and ignore a tightening in his gut.

"Plus, he's been in a relationship with another man for close to twelve years now."

Molly laughed, her laughter full of joy and happiness…Sounded a thousand times better than the music being played in this perfect little hell hole. "How lovely! I hope they keep going strong…Though you could have started off with that bit first."

He turned his face back towards hers to glare at her. She seemed closer than before. Much closer. Leaning close. Her eyes sparkled.

"Oh! You didn't notice until just now…" Molly hazard a guess. It was true so his glare was so hot it was surprising it didn't set anyone ablaze. She simply laughed softly and patted his arm as if to take away any hurtful sting to his great pride.

" It's okay, Sherlock." She whispered soothingly. "I know you will find me a keeper."

Sherlock let a low growl escape his throat. He wanted to find a bad guy and toss him off a roof…there may or may not be a rubbish bins underneath.

Molly, sweet Molly who had no idea what he was thinking or desiring, gifted him a small lovely smile. Even if she had known, Sherlock suspected she'd have smiled anyway. It was a lovely smile. Soft. Beautiful. One talented oil master painters spent lifetimes attempting to achieve.

Her fingers from her free hand…the one not holding her coffee…tapped and danced lightly upon his sleeve. Years ago, Sherlock noticed she liked to touch things…it was like a mindless compulsion that she couldn't help. For a while a long time Molly had even attempted to stop doing that with him…Looking shocked and ashamed of herself when she caught herself doing that…For a time…Which he hated, she had seemed to stop doing that with him. Then one day he had caught her hand while walking together down to the morgue…and held it captive firmly upon his arm…Hoping to let her know silently that he didn't mind. For he refused to let her know he didn't mind her touch…Hell, sometimes he even craved it. Nope, he could never say that out loud.

Now if he could get her to stop touching other men while she talked…men she felt comfortable with…He'd feel a thousand times better. He could make an exception with John…Maybe…

Hell, he once timed a four second hug that lasted between the two…A second longer and he'd had punched someone and it wouldn't have been Molly…Like John needed a beautiful woman who wasn't his wife pressing her soft and warm body tightly against his. Plus, where had his hug been? For seriously, who had been stuck in a cage with a huge arse of a hungry snarling tiger that day? Huh? Who? It damn sure hadn't been John! Yet the man receives a four second hug from his Molly…Yeah, he should have just reached over and punched John anyway. Screw the very fact that John had saved him.

He found himself nearly growling like a dangerous predator…He didn't, however, especially when he heard Molly continue softly, "I'm a keeper."

There was absolutely no hint of a question to the statement. His sharp eyes shot to hers. Yes, she was indeed a keeper…no doubt. Never any doubt actually.

"I've had men tell me…" She still spoke softly…Her mind clearly somewhere else as if looking through her own private memories. Molly blinked, coming back, giving Sherlock a certain look. "I've also been told that I'm a bit too picky. But I want what I want…I like and love certain… _things_."

Molly looked down at her tea as if she had forgotten about it and was surprised to find it there…Her fingers now dancing and playing along the sides.

"I'll admit something, Sherlock…I hadn't wanted to share with you because you would demand to see it and I'm ready to let you…if you want. A day or so after Moriarty and you met upon the roof and everything went to plan…He sent me something…Moriarty. A small little video…He said he was certain he'd win but if I was watching that maybe he was no longer part of the physical world…or perhaps he'd done something creative and everyone simply thought he was dead...He wanted me to know something. He thought you wouldn't see it or notice it but he did. He told me about the three bullets aimed at your friends…But he didn't point a bullet my way. Not because I didn't matter. He even said it might come back and bite his arse…but he couldn't. Wouldn't. In fact he called in some favors that if something should happen to me to get to you…they would pay…also, supposedly he is still paying certain people…I asked your brother if that put me in danger but he doubted it. There are still people out there seriously afraid of the man…some don't even believe he's dead. It wasn't out of sentiment. He didn't do it because he cared…He did it because he said there was something about me. A light that if he was a different man he'd capture and imprison. He said I was the type he'd have blackmailed into his bed…or even marriage. The things he said were creepy as hell but to him I think they were as close to an erotic love letter could come. I've met his two brothers…One owns a radio station…another a pub…each time they see me they treat me like I'm someone who had been important to their baby brother and to be honest it weirds me out…and a woman I think is his sister…I'm not sure if she is but…there is something about her…She seems to talk in riddles sometimes and she'd incredibly brilliant …"

Molly shrugged before looking back at him. "I'm not sure if all Moriarty had said was true or not…Though I did believe him when he said I was different and in his own way he said I was a keeper. Sure some would say believing a mad man is crazy but…well…He also said he loved my wicked fingers and I knew bloody well that to be the truth."

Sherlock was completely stunned by her revelation…and yes, he wanted to see that video…and…wait… _wicked fingers_ …

She didn't mean…

"I gave Moriarty a lovely hand job…before I…knew he was Moriarty and was playing me. Why I was surprised that you thought Jim was gay…I don't know if he was or was simply playing a game with you…but trust me, the man enjoyed it and I enjoyed it…Mostly because I become seriously turned on bringing my partner pleasure. I get off on it…He knew…found that out and he was amazed by it…In the video he sent me he admitted that a lot of things he faked but not his begging when my fingers petted and stroked him just right. I made him beg and he should have hated me for that…instead…Well, I don't really understand men…especially men I end up liking or why I can't stop liking them…That one night was special, I guess. I wanted to forget about it to be honest…Wicked fingers…He's not the only one to call them that. I sometimes receive drunk texts from former boyfriends telling me they miss my wicked fingers…not me…but my fingers. I wish they would remember the woman attached to those fingers…" Molly admitted.

"Molly—"Sherlock began, his voice low and rough…

Molly interrupted him. "Please just find me a man who will see the woman…see _me_ …Know that I can make mistakes but I'm…not a bad person…I work on corpses but not because I don't see them as people…it's because I see them…They were breathing and now they are not…and I need to know why. Those mysteries…solving those mysteries help me…I can be selfish, Sherlock…just as you can be. I would not want to change that about you…yet sometimes other men seem to want to change that in me."

"I wouldn't change that about you…" Sherlock informed her. She was already perfect enough for him.

Molly gave him a certain look before taking a sip from her drink. After a moment she finally declared, leaning towards him…Her mouth close to his ear…Her breath warm and teasing…"I'm hoping you'll find me a man who will know when I text him that I'm thinking about him…He'll know without me explaining that I just played with myself and moaned out his name as I got off…"

His breath caught in his throat and his heart may have stopped. He slammed down his coffee, to leave it there and hope this hell would be over soon.

"I wonder…" Molly seemed to muse to him, "if I'll met him tonight with your help…Will he be able see me…A woman tired of not getting what she really wants…A man to love and to love her back…A woman who is feeling very naughty because under this lovely and proper dress…she purposely forgot to wear her knickers."

She leaned away and went back to looking around her as if searching…waiting for something.

It took Sherlock a long moment…a very long moment…He towered near her…glaring…He wanted to do _something_ …not sure what but something….His fingers curled…longing to reach out and…and…Instead he growled out, "What the _fuck_ has gotten into you, Molly."

She titled her head his way to study him…her eyes held a strong spark of determination…"Obviously, never the right man, Sherlock."

"Are you playing your own game, Molly?" He had to ask. His heart beating fast and loud…

Molly blinked and gave a slight shrug. "Perhaps. Doesn't really matter. I will go with whoever you pick for me. Though do keep in mind that you have been known to chance off my previous prospects…You did the same with John. Sabotaging all his relationships until you found one that said the magic words…'I'll talk to him. I'm on your side…' Okay, I have no way of knowing exactly what she said…but I'm certain that you knew she would help you win John back. So Mary was allowed to stay in your world…"

"I…I allowed…Tom…that's his name right? To stay." He couldn't help but defend himself.

Molly gave a lady like snort. "Right. You told him that wherever Tom and I ended up would be your future and permanent bolt-hole."

"Your point?"

"On the nights I worked you'd show up and play your violin while he tried to sleep…all the while you were naked!" Molly reminded him with a sharp look.

"Still don't see your point." And honestly he didn't.

"You even kick him out of our bed!"

So? There was a sofa to sleep on in the other room. Perhaps he needed to explain his logic.

"Well, the one time I let him sleep there he cuddled up to me and touched me in a highly improper manner and when I told him I was in no way you…he punched me…and yelled at me as if I wasn't in anyway the victim."

"You poisoned the dog!" Molly snapped.

"No! I gave him a harmless sleeping draft that proved who was the murderer in the William Gillette case!"

"You didn't know it was harmless!"

Sherlock quickly looked away. For he couldn't really argue and if he tried there was a strong chance he'd be hit. Plus, in all honesty he wouldn't have killed the tiny dog. No matter what others might say he wasn't a monster.

Though he couldn't help but suddenly wonder if putting bright blue hair dye in meat dagger's shampoo and body wash had finally made the man pack up his annoying bags and get the hell out of London and leave _his_ Molly alone. Sherlock still refused to ask and Molly ever once suggested that he might have had anything whatsoever to do with their break up…

Or it could have simply been the man's odd and rare…and to be honest… _weird_ …phobia about naked men playing violins…

"I still don't see your point." Sherlock forced the lie past his lips. For in all honesty he could see her point quite clearly and it was making him nervous. _**Very nervous**_ …

Molly gave him a long look as if to let him know she knew bloody well he was lying his arse off. Slowly she lifted her cup to her lips and drank….long…slow…deep. Of course he watched…Especially when the tip of her deep pink…and he hated to admit it…quite sexy tongue so delicately licked her lips.

He was quite grateful for his long coat…to hide sudden action that reminded the great cold detective that he was all male…and his body had needs that he feared only Molly could satisfy…No other woman could make him so hot…so hard…Not even _the woman_ …No, only Molly. It annoyed him and worried him that if he ever allowed himself to touch and taste…to give in to what his body would demand at times that he would indeed become an addict. For she would be more powerful than any drug and he knew he'd go somewhere dangerously dark if something were to happen to her…Sentiment. He didn't understand it. Maybe he never would.

Molly finally looked away. Ignoring his personal battle and completely pretending to not to notice or even care…Which made him suddenly what to grab her and make her understand that…that…no, he wouldn't go there.

"Once there was a man I fell deeply in love with…" Molly began carelessly as if talking about London's weather.

Wait, she fell in love with some worthless idiot? …if that man had hurt her, Sherlock knew he'd find the man and punch him more than once in the face. Really, he would.

"But…" She continued in the same tone, "The violinist didn't seem to want or need my love or even me. So, I accepted…happy to be able to be around him…watch him be a pure genius and slowly we became friends and he told me and showed me that I was wrong. He did need me…I was thrilled and satisfied. Then I noticed that maybe he also needed my love as well…not lust…but love. See this violinist enjoyed the thrill of a grand exciting mystery…but he's never came to observe that love itself is the biggest and most exciting grand mystery ever to be had! Though I'm still waiting to see if one day he will. He doesn't like emotions…He hides any fear or worry behind a cold mask of indifference. I don't want him to change…but I do want to walk beside him. Be in his world. Always a part of it. Be there when things go to hell and when things are good…I honestly don't want another man but Sherlock I'm done making wishes upon shooting stars. He needs to make a move or help me move on…Or I'll make a move without his help…and I'm not talking about asking him if I could play with his instrument. Though I'm certain we'd both enjoy it. Like I said I want a permanent relationship that will lead to marriage and arguments about why some bloody twat used all our savings to buy a rotting, about to sink any minute, fishing boat for some fucking case that he's trying to solve."

O-Okay…

Now, Sherlock would never, _ever_ , say it out loud but for once it took him a good full minute to find a response. So unlike him…yet, it forced him to study others around them…

A dentist concerned about her missing cat. A retired cop who was deeply concerned about a relative who was in the hospital…his sister? Two friends planning a surprise party for another friend…

He inhaled sharply when he felt her clothed breasts press themselves against him as she leaned towards him…close…so very close…He could breathe in her wonderful scent. So familiar. So wonderful and dare he think it…beautiful…Her lips once more near his ear. Her voice low, sexy as all hell and promised things that made his cock actually ache…damn it all!

"Oh, just so you know and there is no misunderstanding…when I speak of 'playing with his instrument', I do mean cock, Sherlock, _his cock_."

Sherlock wanted to scream and rant…Or pull her close and let her feel just what her words alone was doing to his 'instrument'! It was a bit too eager…too bloody eager!

 _Seriously!?_

"I'll have you know, Molly, that I knew what you meant…for you don't play the violin!" He snapped darkly…Longing to suddenly be cruel or just turn around and walk out leaving her here…yeah, right…like he really could just _walk_ out of here while his cock was attempting to escape his trousers and let Molly do with it whatever those wicked fingers and heart desired. He knew he could not be cruel to his Molly, he'd lose her forever…and if he dared to walk out…the guy in the far corner who has been eyeing her would come over and attempt to 'comfort' her. Like he'd let that happen! Nope. Anyway, she didn't need a taxidermist who spent hours playing/designing video games around her. Wasn't happening with the great Sherlock Holmes around!

"Also," he could careless that there was a bit of bite in his tone. "I don't see how solving a case could be solved with me buying some rotten boat! Anyway, it's a well-known fact that I'd use my brother's savings long before I'd ever use ours!"

Did she just smile? Did his Molly attempt to give him an innocent look? Why did she lean away from him with an understanding nod and mutter, "Of course, should have known?"

After an intense moment of his glaring hotly at her he growled out a question of, "Well, are you now going to tell me how bloody fantastic your blowjobs are?"

Another sexy and quite lovely smile came his way. Her gorgeous brown eyes seemed to dance with strong delight.

"Well…" Molly drew out the word oh so slowly as if thinking about it. "I've never had any complaints, Sherlock, and I know it doesn't matter if we talk about sex. For you have always cared more about your brain than what your body or your cock may want. Someone has stated on-line that you once had a serious accident and things down there no longer work…if that's true, what a shame but if not…oh, well, it don't matter now does it? As long as we can stay friends, right?"

Okay, someone was on his 'needs to be punched' list…it was probably Andersen.

"Molly…" He began…

Her hand shot out, quicker than a poisonous snake striking its enemy.

"Oh, my God! Do you see _that_ man over there?" She pointed out the man in question. She seemed suddenly excited. "He kind of looks like you except he's hotter!"

Suddenly Sherlock glared at the man in question. Another person has just been placed on his 'needs to be punched' list.

"That man is not hotter than me!" Sherlock told her, furious that she would even dare to think it much less say it out loud. Sure the man was about his height…had dark hair with some gray at the temples…some would say his lovely manly cheekbones…but seriously the man was _**not**_ hotter than him! Nope! Never!

"Well…" Molly had the audacity to sound doubtful. Where is the loyalty? She loved _him_ damn it…She did not need to go around thinking crazy thoughts (for example) that some _American_ was hotter than him!

She dared to continue, "He's ringing my bell simply looking at him. I'm feeling all feminine…Wouldn't mind at all him finding out I'm not wearing knickers. He's a big whole ten that promises orgasms upon countless orgasms…"

"Stop it." Sherlock growled out the order through clenched teeth.

"Perhaps I will if you tell me about him, I will…" Molly suggested innocently though the look in her intelligent eyes were not innocent. Not. At. All.

Damn she could tie him in all kinds of knots!

"He's a New Yorker." Sherlock informed her coldly. Knowing he had to put an end to her madness.

Instead she looked more interested. The other man needed to be punched no doubt about it.

"Really? I've always thought I'd visit New York one day…In fact I've been offered a job more than once over there…Though Canada has been a bit harder than the Americans at their wooing me over. For years now Canada has sent me little thinking of you cards with hearts and the cutest kittens…as well as pictures of corpses in the most unique ways of death. If you want I can show you some of the pictures…"

Of course, he bloody well wanted to see the pictures! They sounded delightful…However, he had a lot more reasons to despise Canadians and Americans now…Trying to steal his Molly away from him. How dare they? Okay, more people to put on his to be hit list…Or he could and he shivered with raw disgust over the thought but perhaps ask Mycroft to do something. For the pictures of interesting corpses was fine and dandy but no more wooing Molly with job offers. She belonged at Bart's. In the lovely cesspool that was London and more importantly he needed her nearby. Close to him. Always.

"I've been there…to New York. Very backwater place. They still poke a body with a stick or the toe of their shoe to judge if it is a corpse or not." Sherlock quickly lied…and he wasn't lying about having gone to New York.

"Hmm…" Molly was still looking at Mr. Hotter-Than-You as if she was thinking of all kinds of delightful, naughty things.

And Sherlock didn't like that. Not. At. All.

She use to look at him like that when they were alone and she thought he was focused on something else.

"He's here to give his expertise on a case." He finally growled out.

He almost sighed with relief as her eyes landed back on him.

"A surgical case." He continued, knowing that he couldn't help but tell her what he'd read about the other man. "He's a neurosurgeon…Quite good…perhaps better than good if they practically begged him to come to London. He'll end up doing the surgery himself for he would refuse to let someone else end up with the glory. He's self-centered which is what hurt the last relationship he was in. He did love her for he shows the sentiment in wearing a watch she had given him. Plus, he's arrogant as all hell."

"Yum, arrogant men are what I like." Molly told him in complete honesty. Her dark eyes still focused on him.

True. Sherlock knew that quite well.

She continued to reply calmly setting down her drink. "I also heard you say pretty much that the man I wouldn't mind ripping the clothes right off has… _magic hands_."

"I didn't say that!"

"Oh! He's headed for the toilets, quick follow and check out his equipment! Then tell me all about it!"

Later Sherlock might wonder how she knew this seeing she was still focused so completely on him. He'd later guess that it was a lie to get a response from him… _a certain type of response_.

His hands came up and jerked Molly off her stool. He ignored her yelp to pull her close. To inform her in his darkest and lowest voice, "A man's cock is not a library book, Molly!"

With that his mouth came down on hers. He wasn't the least bit gentle as he took her mouth with his. Hell, he didn't even _feel_ gentle. Yes, at first it had started as punishment for she had been purposely driving him crazy and playing her own little game. It turned into something else. Pure pleasure. Utter need. Their tongues danced together. Molly moaned and pressed closer still. Perfect. His hands tightened. He needed her. Always. Hell, he…he loved this bloody annoying woman. Her kiss was addicting. There was a promise in that kiss. That there would be more and would satisfy for a brief moment any wild cravings. Only briefly.

Slowly and reluctantly the kiss ended. The way Molly looked at him nearly made him kiss her all over again. Her hand came up and tenderly…almost lovingly caressed his cheek and jaw.

"Tell me." She softly ordered. Sherlock was a brilliantly smart man and he could hear the silent words, 'and be truthful.'

So…He licked his own lips…no matter how badly he wanted to lick hers…he spoke. Truthfully.

"I found you a keeper. A man."

She looked as if she was about to speak but he stopped her with a harsh, "And no it's not that bloody surgeon over there!" His voice gentled before saying, "It's me. I'm your man. I'm not easy to live with but…You know how you said you just wanted to be _in my world_? You…You….damn I hate romantic crap but you _are my world_."

"Aww…"

"Shut up!" Sherlock ordered. "I…I want a permanent relationship with you and any future children you have to be mine. I'm hoping for just one or two but if you wish for the makings of a possible cult then I will bow to your crazy wishes. I know wedding bliss is a bit abhorrent to me but you by my side it could make things quite possibly tolerable. I trust you will be the one to tell me when you are ready to drive off that cliff and I'll be there with a tux that you have picked out for me."

"Sherlock…now…you have to say it." Molly told him.

"Do I have to?" Sherlock nearly wined.

She gave him a pointed look.

He sighed before looking deep into her eyes. Hoping she could see the truth of what he was saying. Knowing it was completely true. He took a deep breath before admitting, "Molly Hooper, I love you."

Her eyes sparkled like mad stars that danced in a dark sky. Her hands began to pull his head down towards her…to capture his lips. But he stopped the motion, with his lips so incredibly close to hers.

"Wait, don't you have something to say back to me?" Sherlock asked, demanding a response.

Her smile beautiful and breathless. "Yeah, I do…It's about bloody time, Sherlock Holmes!"

With that they kissed.

Later she would declare to all their friends that she had won their little game.

But as her hand caressed his arse just right and his arms tightened around her. Sherlock knew bloody well he had actually won the annoying game and he was damn sure keeping his prize!

~*~End of Part 4~*~

* * *

Never fear I promised smut, so smut there shall be!

Off to Baker Street, of course, though the hussy in me and I'm certain my dear friend would say I didn't have to do it there but…I get an odd thrill out of it so for those that aren't crazy for smut can end here or wait for the last part with what I hope will be enjoyable smut…Plus, we should hear Molly's words of love, right? Might have to reread some great lilsherlockian1975 stories to get things just right. Trust me it won't be a hardship at all!

Anyway, my dear, wonderful lil, I hope you have laughed and enjoyed this story that I'm writing for you. I'm honored and deeply touched that I can call someone as delightful and so damn wonderful as you a friend. The next part hopefully in another week...yes, I know...

Also, those that instantly thought 'hey, that's Doctor Strange before the car wreck' well yes, who else could I possibly have that might be so called hot to drive Sherlock crazy…Um, sure could have been Khan…But it's easier to explain DS then Khan at a coffee place…anyway, if you are enjoying please let me know. Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

HI! Sorry this has taken so long. I attempted to send this out on Saturday but something wacky was going on. Anyway, on the whole long wait issue...

You can blame me and life in general as well as the fact I don't use the computer as often as I should. Even though there are great fanfic stories out there by amazing, fantastic writers—one of them is lilsherlockian1975. I hope you love this story as much as I love you. You are awesome and amazing! Thank you for putting up with me and allowing me the honor to call you friend.

Oh, and I waited awhile to see if it would force readers to go back and read the whole thing.

Yes, I _am_ completely evil!

And now…

~*~Orange Colored Sky ~*~

 _~*~Part 5~*~_

 _Sherlock: But what could I need from you?_

-Sherlock S2 Ep3 'Reichenback Fall'

… _said Holmes that evening, 'it can only be as an example of that temporary eclipse to which even the best-balanced mind may be exposed. Such slips are common to all mortals…'_

-The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax by Arthur Conan Doyle

 _And I started to shout, "I've been hit, this is it, this is it. I.T.-it!" I was walkin' along. Mindin' my business. When love came and hit me in the eye. Flash! Bam! Ali-ca-zam! Out of that orange colored purple striped pretty polka dot sky! Flash! A-bam! Ali-ca-zam and goodbye!_

-from song, 'Orange Colored Sky'…sung by Nat King Cole

~*~SHERLOCK~*~

Sherlock and Molly left 'Cups of Lovin' or as the great consulting detective would always think of it as 'that place where he staked his claim, kissed his woman even though the coffee was good, the place was pure hell.'

Of course, they hadn't stayed too long…especially after Sherlock made bloody certain Molly knew for certain that only _he_ was the one for her. The only one actually, it was pure silliness to think otherwise.

As if scripted and with not much effort at all a cab pulled up automatically as if it knew the great detective's need and desire to take Molly to Baker Street…and… _love her_ …make love to her, however one does that…all Sherlock knew was that he was going to do so!

On their way, Molly's sweet body pressed itself close to his side. For once he didn't take notice of where the cab had been moments before, who or the other persons had been in the backseat…Quite rare…Nor did he wonder if the cabby was an interesting killer or not…Which he knew from past experience was all necessary information to be had.

Yet, here he was not even bothering to observe the normal everyday things that usually hit him like a brick to the side of his head…Sometimes even taking things in that he didn't even notice until moments later…Nope. Everything within him, his brilliant mind, was focused on her. His Molly.

The feel of her lovely warmth…her skin and those sweet lips. She kept giving him light teasing kisses that normally, with such a public display of affection, he'd be quite uncomfortable with. However, he had recently snogged her and staked his claim in a crowded building...

So…

Really, he found he honestly didn't mind. He should, perhaps…for Molly did bring out all this overwhelming emotions within him that for so long he deemed where unsuitable for daily living as well as made him weak. But it didn't really make him weak. It made him focus a tad bit more sharply than usual. He also refused to say that these blasted emotions were frightening. For Sherlock Holmes may be many things however he was _**not**_ a child. No matter what John told the world.

So what if he felt she was stripping him completely bare…exposing him to raw, true and quite intense emotion…

He'd deal with it.

Not by pushing her away but drawing her closer. By being her man and Molly being his woman. In fact his arm around her body felt like a confirmation to him at least. Especially, with Molly's body pressed just right against him. Her hand playfully rubbing his thigh, driving him crazy. The bloody cabby seriously needed to break the damn speed limit and perhaps a couple of laws along the way to Baker Street. If he had been driving there might have been a couple of new hood ornaments upon the shiny black cab.

Luckily, he didn't have to hurt the driver to make him hurry the hell up. Nope. The driver made it to 221 B Baker Street in more than reasonable time. Surprisingly the man did so without breaking any laws or making people near or around the street run screaming for their lives.

Wait, the driver wasn't a man but a short haired tired looking woman whose smile was huge as she cheerfully told him with a happy, 'Ta, Mr. Holmes! Always a pleasure driving you, sir!' When he shoved notes at her that was more than necessary as he ordered her to keep the change.

He really should have noticed that the cabbie was female and one who had driven him around more than once. A few times he even suspected her of working for his brother but found he really didn't care if she did or not. Yet, tonight he hadn't noticed! _At all!_ Instead he had been so bloody focused on Molly and all those naughty and delightful thoughts of what they were about to do…

So, much for being Mr. Observant tonight! Well, actually he wanted to observe and remember what would bring his woman pleasure. Lots of pleasure.

He decided to refuse to say anything out loud about not noticing a sodding thing regarding their driver, including one's sex…when he glanced over at Molly…Her eyes sparkled with laughter as if she knew. He found that if she suspected such a thing, he didn't mind. Not with her looking at him like that. Only on him.

He also chose to ignore the sudden lump in his throat and focused on getting _his_ beautiful woman inside.

Neither said anything as they went in…even as they went up the well-worn stairs leading to his flat. Molly smiled happily as she grabbed his hand. Fitting so perfectly in his. Her hand dry, warm, soft yet strong as she gave his own big grip a squeeze.

When they entered his flat, near his sofa, in fact…he turned to face her to say, "So…"

His beautiful pathologist could really move when she wanted to and so she did…moving as quick as a flash of lightening she stuck…Pressing her body tightly against his…Her palms framing his face in an almost loving fashion before pulling down so his lips would met hers. He'd admit to extreme willingness on his part…

So, they kissed…She exchanged her breath with his…seconds before her tongue tangled with his in a slow…long…incredibly sweet, hot dance of pure erotic pleasure.

His arms imprisoned her, keeping her pressed close. If he was a man who happened to believe in heaven…Not that it mattered but if it did…Well, perhaps having her in his arms was as close as he'd ever come to it.

There was true paradise within this kiss. As well as something more…Something quite permanent.

Sherlock was not a man of fantasy, however, he knew whatever was between them was a beautiful and precious gift…Why had he never noticed that? Hell, _she_ was a precious gift! One he'd treasure all the days of his life…be it short or long…His Molly was a treasure. Though there was a strong possibility that he'd drive his treasure crazy long their adventure together.

She moaned and he couldn't help but echo his own moan right back as the kiss deepened.

When the kiss slowly ended, Molly pulled her head back and slightly up to look at him with a soft, lovely smile before muttering, "Mmm, nice."

Sherlock blinked at her…Nice? That amazing kiss was simply _nice_ to her? Really? Well, hell, he'd have to do better and he was up to the challenge!

She opened her mouth as if to say more but he was too busy refastening his mouth onto hers.

He wasn't certain he'd ever admit this out loud, but she was quite addicting. Far too addicting and to be perfectly honest he didn't really give a fuck. For she was _his_ craving. His dear beautiful Molly.

There was such a tidal wave of pure raw feeling trapped inside him and he should seriously abhorred it but…but how could he when Molly was the one who held his heart captive? He should be uncomfortable with that or at least be degusted with himself…but he wasn't. John had taught him that it was okay to trust…Molly was teaching him that it was okay to love.

He had never lost himself in a kiss before now…Her pure sweetness with a hint of sharp spice. Molly reluctantly stopped the kiss…He liked the fact that she was reluctant to stop…More than liked, actually.

"Sherlock…" She breathed, her beautiful dark eyes already filled with the promise of erotic passion. He _loved_ that! "We really should take the moment to talk."

Okay, he didn't love that! Come on! _TALK? Seriously?_ With that erotic passion, need, for him in those eyes? With her hand lovingly rubbing his clothed arse so wonderfully and her other hand attempting to yank his tight yet elegant dress shirt from his black trousers. And during their hot as Hades kiss he had quite recently tore open her colorful dress sending those cute little pearl buttons flying to reveal a sexy red peek-a-boo bra…And his hand may have already attached itself to one breast when she had decided to speak…

So…really? She needs to talk? No, wait, she felt _they_ needed to talk. Had they not talked at the café? This was the first time she had ever revealed a problem with short term memory…Should he be concerned? Hmm, perhaps he'll call John about it…later, much later…

Okay, so his woman wanted to talk…At the moment, with the look in her eyes…Her lace covered breast filled his hand just right, feeling so very perfect…and those wicked hands of hers…Her lips swollen with his kisses…Sure, she wanted to talk…She was being pure evil, but then he was Sherlock Holmes and he didn't mind evil…

He took a deep breath as her hand found his bare skin…"Talk? What do you want a safe word?"

Molly blinked at him in surprise before he asked softly, his voice a low and sexy whisper, "Should _**I**_ have a safe word?"

She laughed for a moment before saying, "No, perhaps later…it's just…well, I know I'm clean and over the years I've tested you so you are clean—"

Now Sherlock was surprised and blinked down at her. "You've tested me?"

He wasn't sure how he felt about that…and he was curious about how he missed that. Sure, sometimes when he'd ask for body parts she'd ask for his blood. Muttering about comparing it with another sample she was running or needing to test for drugs or some crazy shit. He didn't care as long as he received his eyeballs or other body parts that at the time he felt he couldn't do without…Then there was those times John took more samples than was necessary. Was that the reason? Was John and Molly partners in crime? At least in the stealing of his blood.

Then there was that ridiculous 'Hugs for Blood' drive that Molly was involved in. Molly hugging all those strangers…He seen those lines. Okay, not all of them were strangers. Lestrade and Andersen always being in the front of the Que. Anyway, there was a lot of men. Might be brief but still she was pressing her body against them and holding them…

"You know I have." Molly confirmed.

"Okay." He could accept that. "Are you concerned that your birth control pills won't work? I know I am amazing at the skill of deduction but I don't think my sperm has super powers…as far as I know."

Though he wouldn't mind if his sperm did over power the birth control pills…if he timed it just right maybe she'd be too heavy with his child to go hugging all those blasted men simply because they gave blood. Plus, some primal part of him wouldn't mind seeing her with his child. He wasn't sure why. He didn't care if his genes went to another generation. He didn't even care to please his parents. His Mum's words of 'All my friends now have grandchildren, your father and I are feeling left out.' Hadn't moved him one bit. Molly though…Moved him in ways that still shocked the hell out of him and there was a lot of hell inside of him that was hard to shock.

"Well, I am on the pill…but still…you should know I'm clean but if you want to wear a con-"

"Do you want me to wear one?" Sherlock interrupted, curious.

"I want to _feel_ you inside me." She confessed this in a soft almost husky whisper…That promised all sorts of wicked, delightful things.

It made him ache to accept the promised delights. So much hunger for her. Need.

"Alright." Sherlock agreed with a nod as if in complete agreement with himself. "Whatever you need."

"I _need_ you, Sherlock." Molly told him. The raw, blunt truth in her voice…in her eyes.

She gasped in shock as he suddenly lifted her into his arms and carried her towards his bedroom. He may have moved with quick determined strides for he was feeling so bloody desperate…and it was _all_ her fault. Really it was!

Molly didn't seem to mind in the least. For her smile was bright as he carefully laid her in the middle of his bed.

He had been highly tempted to simply fling her upon the bed but there was John's voice in his head ordering him not to be such a bloody animal!

So Sherlock forced himself to be a gentleman. So he laid her down gently and then he took a moment to study the prize… _his_ prize…that was now on his bed. Molly looked beautiful and perfect there. No longer did is bed look and seem barren and lonely. She looked as if she was always supposed to be there.

Yes, she belonged in his life and in his bed…more importantly in his heart. It simply took a while to notice this fact…or he simply had wanted to ignore it. Not take notice of how much Molly had come to mean to him.

He was quick to notice, however, that Molly had moved her legs closer to herself so she could slid her sandals off.

Oh, right! So, being the helpful gentlemen that John had annoyingly ordered him to be countless times…He took the one shoe she had already removed from her hand and yanked the other one right off. He flung them across the room without care. The bang against the wall meant nothing to him.

Sherlock moved to sit on the side of the bed to make quick work of his own shoes. Had to be a record he was certain. Not that he was counting but he felt happy as he tossed the pair over his shoulder. He heard the sound of one of the shoes hitting and knocking off a framed picture…Sound of glass quickly followed.

Again, he didn't care. Not one bloody ounce.

Sherlock may have been completely apathetic towards it all but what he was not clearly apathetic towards _her_ …His woman…Especially if his aching, hard as hell cock was currently informing him so brutally…Molly did not equal apathy at all!

Especially now…While he had been yanking and flinging off his shoes with quite a lot of gusto…She had not been idle…no, she had been quietly sliding her dress right off.

He couldn't help but stare. All she wore was that hot little red lacy peek-a-boo bra…and…hmm, no knickers. Seriously, she was wearing _ **none**_.

Molly noticed him staring and a delicate flush rose upon her neck and cheeks. Her fingers clinched upon her now wrinkled dress.

Sherlock moved…climbing onto the bed, taking the dress from her and with a flick of his hand tossed it to the floor. His hands fell upon her and he leaned his face close to hers.

"You are so beautiful, Molly…" Sherlock breathed, low and husky…he couldn't help tell her this truth.

Something more than hunger flashed in those beautiful shining eyes of hers. Not that he took much time attempting to figure out what that something was. No. He was too busy claiming her lips with his.

Needy. Desperate. Hot with a slight bit of roughness.

Molly was quite responsive to his raw passionate kiss. For she returned it right back. Matching him…Daring him…

Their moans filled the room…

Such need….hunger…desire.

Perfection. Pure, raw and wonderful perfection!

Sherlock, who prided himself on knowing everything he ever needed to know…now knew what perfection was…

If possible more urgent passion was quickly rising attempting to gain control.

Until he noticed what Molly's fingers were busy doing. He wasn't sure why but he wanted her completely mindless with need for _him._ Not calmly unbuttoning his dress shirt while he was mindlessly kissing her! Come on, now!

With a dark growl he pulled back. To yank sharply at the shirt in question. He had other shirts. Better shirts…not that it mattered. The remaining buttons flew. One even landed on Molly's shoulder. She gasped and then laughed wildly with joy as they both realized that as he was quickly taking his blasted shirt off…he hadn't bothered to unbutton the cuffs. Bloody shirt! A curse sprang forth and after he clawed at the dastardly buttons from their holes…

He jerked it, tore it, and balled it up violently with a promise to later set the item aflame in his fireplace before throwing it as hard as he could away from them. He blamed the shirt for wasting his time when he could be having relations with his woman!

No laughter now as Molly eyed his chest hungrily and he could have sworn he heard her mutter, "Oh, yummy!"

She moved quickly to press kisses to his flesh…While he slid a hand down her hair and her back before touching the back of her lacy bra…Nope, there wasn't a clip there so that meant…

Molly pulled back slightly with a full sexy smile as she reached for the well placed front clip. She did so, slowly as if teasingly.

"Would you like me to simply rip it right off your body?" Sherlock suggested quite helpfully.

"There's no rush, Sherlock." Molly informed him carelessly as if his cock wasn't informing him otherwise. He _needed_ her…Quite badly. He had an odd feeling that he would _always_ would and that thought or feeling didn't bother him one ounce!

"Don't like. Just the thought of what we are about to do…Makes me so bloody hard." He told her honestly. Watching desire and hunger for him fill those warm lovely eyes of hers. "I've been a fool to wait so long…"

"Well…you are no longer a fool now, are you?" Molly asked as the clip came undone…Revealing gorgeous breasts…she slid the un-ripped lace right off and tossed it to the floor. "I'll be honest, Sherlock, knowing you are hard for me…makes me wet…Yet, you're still wearing your trousers…"

His hands met hers at his belt…not to stop her, for that would be quite foolish and he was not a foolish man…He brushed her lips with his before replying, "Hmm, gee, who was it that said there wasn't any rush?"

Molly laughed as he allowed her to unbutton and unzip his trousers…moving his boxers she found the prize she was looking for…curling warm fingers around his aching cock, oh so right…

He may have even made a sound of pleasure as she leaned in close to his ear to whisper sexily, "Does it really matter who said what at this time? Hmm, Sherlock?"

His dick was so full of life and urgent need as her hand held him, fondled…and if his cock was to be believed, the answer was a loud 'NO'!

With those fingers wrapped around him as if testing his hardness. Playfully those fingers moved, danced in the most leisure of explorations…Slow…Sensual and so wonderful. Her clever fingers and palm moved slowly over him creating pure paradise…

He kissed her while allowing her to play…for he was looking forward to running his hands intimately over her. One of his hands caressed her naked arse making her moan. Her hand sadly stopped before pulling out to join her other hand at his undone waist band…They were so loose it was amazing they didn't just drop.

He removed his lips from hers to hear her say huskily…voice filled with absolute authority…"Take those off, now."

Sherlock smirked. He moved to do as she had so strongly requested. As he yanked his trousers and pants off, she licked her lips before lightly biting her bottom lip. He will admit he liked those eyes of hers on him. Full of desire, hunger and let's be honest…Love. Love for him.

Now, he wasn't sure why the woman of his heart would suddenly decide to inform him, "You can keep your socks on…you know, if you want…I don't mind. In fact, I find handsome men incredibly sexy in only socks. So…if you want…I will find it hot…really hot…"

Okay, the love of his life was crazy, he could deal with—Wait a minute!

" _Men_?" Sherlock asked with a glare. His smirk long gone.

Molly blinked before saying in an almost charming, flustered babble, "W-Well, of course I meant you! Only _you_ could pull off looking sexy in only socks! I mean…seriously yummy! Other _men_? What men? There are no other men who could pull that off. Sure, that hot doctor tonight could have—um, I mean, maybe sure…Pfft, who knows, right? Anyway, my point, I've thought about *you* in only socks and it's quite a turn on! Also-Also, You are what I like! No matter what you wear o-or don't wear."

Sherlock thought about it for a second, perhaps even less than that for he knew he was indeed what she liked and who she greatly loved…So, he shrugged and got on with taking off the rest of his clothes…Leaving his socks on just for her. Damn, the things a man does to keep romance alive!

Now he turned all his attention upon Molly. They both reached out for one another. Touching. Caressing. His hands slid over her curves, while his fingers moved as if testing the strings of his violin. All the while there were kisses and to be perfectly honest he lost count of them. Completely lost in the feel and taste of her.

Her small, strong hands also moved over him. Especially his back. Finding his scars. Feeling his skin and muscles in slow, sweet movements…as if memorizing every inch of his skin…Every line of his body. He didn't mind for he was doing the same thing to her body. To others it all might seem so simple of touches. Yet it wasn't. No. More like a branding iron to one's very heart…to one's very soul.

He trailed kisses down her neck…Soon he was nuzzled one of her lovely breasts. His tongue sweetly stroking her tight nipple. Molly moaned and moaned again as one of his hands slid between her legs. Finding her warmth. She wiggled…legs widened more…fingers playing. Enjoying her wetness and finding her clit quite easily.

Sherlock drew her nipple into his mouth…Sucking strongly as a finger slid into her. Oh, this is how things happen…How burning wildfires suddenly and completely becomes out of control.

It was such a pleasure…especially knowing he was the one giving Molly that pleasure. Giving her his heart and body. He could see and feel that pleasure he was giving and sharing. It was that pleasure that had her moaning his name. Yep. Just like that and knowing that what he was doing was causing her breath to go more ragged and that beautiful look upon her face. Those eyes that could see so much. See _him_. Eyes so completely focused on him. Filled with need and love for him. This was bliss.

Pure bliss. It was such a strong emotion…one with all his skills and drug use have never once truly achieve. Until now, with Molly. His lovely Molly.

He loved her so deeply it truly scared him. Seriously scared him, but he'd deal and accept it. What else could he do? So, he'd love her.

Another finger joined in. Moving slowly. Playfully. Thumb rubbed just right upon her clit. He knew he'd done it just right as his name came out of her with such raw sexiness…so breathless…

And to think this beautiful, smart woman was all his. Bloody hell, he _loved_ that!

He couldn't resist the lure of her other sweet, soft breast…So he moved his attention to that one. He pulled her nipple deep into his mouth…tugging and rolling…using the flat of his tongue to stroke and the edge of his teeth to gently send more flames of desire to dance between them.

"Damn it, Sherlock! Get your cock inside me!"

Gee, his woman was so demanding!

When his mouth left her breast he gave a small chuckle. He removed his hand from that warm, moist heat of hers…To slide and allowed her to feel him. His cock so full of life and urgent need. To be quite honest, though he'd never admit this fact out loud…He was desperate to feel her inviting warmth…wet heat surround him…However there was something that had to be done first.

Sherlock kissed her. Deep and raw…a bit rough. She kissed him right back. Tongues dancing. Two of his fingers rolled and pinched one of her nipples. The noise she made! One of her hands had gone into his hair…rubbed and a light tug that left a slight bite…Damn, she knew him well! That slight bite made him want to slam into her…But, no, he teased…and rocked his hips…Cock pressing…teasing her lovely folds…Always about to enter before pulling away. Her moans desperate and lovely. He made it a silent vow to hear these sounds constantly.

Still he really had something important to do. Molly's hips recklessly moved…so demanding…He ended the kiss to study her face. So lovely. So beautiful.

"Sherlock…" She breathed.

He almost smiled. Instead he did his bloody damnest to keep his cool…Which was hard as hell but he was now on a mission!

"Molly, we need to talk." He wasn't sure how he kept his tone calm and flat.

"Wha—"

"You haven't said the words back to me. Now is as good as time as any…"

Yes, he, Sherlock Holmes could be a right bastard.

"You bastard!" Molly quickly confirmed.

He grabbed her hips as he slowly began to enter her…that sweet entrance so damp with pure need for him…to simply pull back out.

"I'll have you know my parents are legally married. I've studied the paper work and other evidence quite closely over the years." He couldn't help to reply, however his voice was now tight…Not sure how long he could last. This was pure torture.

"Sherlo—"

He didn't allow his woman to finish.

"I love you, Molly and I know you foolishly love me in return. So…Say it. Say the words. Come on, woman! Say it!"

"Yes, I love you…Now get on with it you crazy man!" She ordered sharply.

He was not normally a man to take orders or even do them quickly but…For her…He did so.

Burying himself deep…To the halt no less…His balls even touching her.

She made encouraging, blissful moan…

Sweet bliss. Utter pleasure…The feeling of her body surrounding him. Her wonderful tightness. Perfect. Her body so welcoming of his invasion with that hot fantastic wet silk that gripped him so perfectly. She completely stole his breath. Which would make sense seeing how she had stolen his heart as well as his imperfect soul so long ago.

He began to take her. Her hips moving to meet his with each thrust. Skin touching skin. Touch upon sweet welcoming touch. Their breaths becoming ragged…gasping.

Her lovely soft and breathy moans were the sweetest of songs that made him feel alive…made him pick up the pace with his thrusts. Her hands slid around his shoulders and her short fingernails bit in deep though he didn't mind. She needed an anchor and he would be that. For her, willingly. Plus, as those nails dug in with just the rough enough bite that he liked…It simply added to the burning fire that was building…

Such intense desire. Such overwhelming love. Yes his thick cock was inside her. But Molly was inside of him. So deep within his heart. He was uncertain what could be done about it. She could never be removed from it and to be honest he had no wish to do so for it would simply leave him with a gaping empty hole.

He needed her. He longed for her to need him with the same steadfast urgent hunger that consumed him and looking into those eyes of hers. He knew without a doubt…She felt the same. He was an extremely lucky man.

Every stroke felt so glorious. So bloody good! He wanted to always be the one to drive her wild. To see that love and passion…To bring her pleasure. And soon enough he'd bring her to that special edge…hell, he wanted to go over with her. And there it was! That tension that coiled, tighter and tighter that gave away to sweet powerful orgasm. So raw, so pure and true. Together they both soared.

Later, Molly looked so beautifully disheveled and sexy…He couldn't help but hold her close. He also knew that though for the moment, their hunger was sated it could start up once more. They didn't speak for a long while. Both comfortable with the silence and with each other.

At some point, Sherlock knew Molly would make noise about checking on Toby but that wouldn't happen much later. They were a couple now in a relationship…

He broke the silence as he pondered a slight mystery.

"As we are now in a serious relationship I do have an important question." Sherlock couldn't help but warn his pathologist.

"Hmm?" She rubbed her hand along his chest…her head resting upon his shoulder. He took that sound as encouragement to continue.

"Well, according to society when one is in a relationship they must…date." Sherlock spoke slowly as if he could perhaps be wrong.

"Well, yes." Molly spoke softly. Her hand had sadly stopped its rubbing.

Sherlock cleared his throat before curiously asking, "So, um, does one take his date out to harpoon a pig together, before or after dinner?"

To his great surprise Molly began to laugh.

He blinked and stated with great honesty, "I'm serious…"

And he was. However, Molly quickly lifted herself up so she could kiss him. Sweet. Deep. Slow.

For once the great consulting detective forgot an important question that would solve a mystery…

And as Molly kissed him and her fingers reached out to stoke him in the most wicked of manner…

He would later tell himself it didn't matter nor did he mind that he had been so easily sidetracked.

Nope, indeed, especially when his woman did that with her fingers!

~*~THE END*~*

Note: Thank you for reading. Quick note: I made up the whole 'Hugs for Blood'. Rubbish, horrible idea, of course…however, this is fiction and I wanted an reasonable excuse to have a bit of 'green-eyed' jealous Sherlock.

Well, my dear readers I do hope you enjoyed! Let me know!


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